


Here For You Wherever You Are

by iamsolarflare



Category: Alice Isn't Dead (Podcast), Bastille (Band), Lifeline (Video Game 2015), WWCOMMS - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Hitchhiking, Multiple Crossovers, Suspense, WWCOMMS, cryptic bullshit, lifeline crisis line i guess, shout-out to the wwcomms oc because i couldn't be arsed to care about uh. anything, spoilers for s1 of AID and like, this work was written while i was very very tired you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsolarflare/pseuds/iamsolarflare
Summary: An unlikely tail is discovered; a hitchhiker is less helpful than he is cryptic and annoying.





	Here For You Wherever You Are

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote most of this at like 12:00 at night so if something is incoherent and that something ISN'T a result of this being a triple threat crossover, please let me know
> 
> this probably takes place sometime between seasons/parts 1 and 2 of alice isn't dead; at some point in time after lifeline: crisis line, and where-the-fuck-ever but probably after send them off! in the wwcomms timeline.
> 
> wwcomms is weird and this is just my interpretation of it. i'd strongly recommend getting into the #lore though it's pretty rad. also maybe check out starset society while you're at it because it's both a good band and another key player in the fuckery that is this wwcomms verse

I’ve been on the road a while this time. Got a long delivery headed far, far upstate. I should have taken a couple of rests, but…

I’ll cut to the chase, no fancy prose like usual. I’m a bit stressed out - I feel like this one car is tailing me.

It’s a green minivan - forest-green, classic suburban mom material. The type of car where, if you opened it up, you’d expect it to be full of spare toys, maybe some food stains on the middle seats, a beach towel here and a soccer ball there.

As far as I’ve glimpsed, there’s only one person in the car, though. A woman with a typical blonde suburban mom haircut, reflective sunglasses, and a look on her face that seems a bit more severe than just “I’d like to speak to your manager.”

The sunglasses are worth mentioning - it’s almost evening, Alice. The sun is setting, and the road I’m driving on is facing away from it. There’s no risk of catching glare from the sun - it’s like this lady is hiding her eyes for some other reason.

I’ve learned to trust my gut, and my gut says that I don’t want to end up alone with this woman. But at the same time, this is a commonly used route - she might just be going to the same place that I am.

I’ve driven this road a couple times before; there’s a gas station that’s usually very crowded up ahead. Normally I wouldn’t want to wait in line for so long, but…

This woman, she gives off a different vibe than the other things I’ve run into. I don’t think she’d try something in a crowded place, if she was going to try something.

Station’s coming up shortly.

Talk to you soon, Alice.

* * *

 

So here’s what happened.

I pulled up at the gas station. Tried to ignore the feeling that this green minivan was following me, even when it pulled in shortly after I did.

I filled up my tank with diesel as quickly as I could, breathing through my mouth. Not out of annoyance, because the smell of gasoline and diesel is pretty commonplace to me by now, but out of habit. Like the smell at the station was somehow the worst thing I’d ever smelled, I pinched my nose and tried to breathe through my mouth.

I only turned away from the truck for a few seconds, only didn’t have the cabin in my peripheral vision for a few heartbeats. But apparently that was enough.

Sitting in the passenger seat, like he’d always been there, was-

-Me!

...Oh, sorry, I guess that’d ruin the dramatic tension of all this. Go on.

…

...Anyway. Sitting in the passenger seat, like he’d always been there, was a man. Light-skinned - pale, actually, like he didn’t see much sun - and black-haired, with mirrored sunglasses I couldn’t see his eyes through.

I immediately thought of the lady in the van, the blonde-haired woman also wearing mirrored sunglasses. Two people wearing this much eye protection so late in the day? One of them randomly appearing in my truck? Something was going on.

I asked him what was going on, and he just said…

…

...Oh, so  _ now _ you’re not going to talk?

What? I wanted to know what your impression of me would sound like.

I’ll interrupt if it’s terrible! Otherwise, you’ve made it pretty clear that this is  _ your _ monologue, not mine.

...Fine.

“I’m not affiliated with  _ her _ ,” he said, jerking his head towards the green minivan dismissively, in that way people do when they’re pointing out something they particularly dislike. “Well, not in any good way. Actually, I’m here making sure she doesn’t do whatever she’s up to.”

I had to take a better look at him again, try to size him up, but all I got was more confused.

Black suit jacket and matching pants - a company man, I thought, but then he shifted slightly and I realized that he was wearing a t-shirt with a logo on it under that jacket.

The logo was white on a black background - it was sort of a triangle spiral, or maybe 3 triangles intersecting. It looked familiar, like I’d seen it before, but for the life of me I don’t know where.

I still don’t know where I saw it, actually. This logo - and I know it’s a logo  _ for _ something, because I really do remember seeing it on something somewhere - feels like something… that’s been around for a while. Like Bay & Creek was present in my life for so long without my realization, this logo is something from my past, too. But I don’t know that part of my past yet.

…

...Ah, right, that’s probably my lead-in, huh?

We’re a media company. WWCOMMS is the company name.

Stands for Wild World Communications.

You probably just happened to flick past a broadcast or something, happens all the time! People don’t really notice us until they need to, y’know?

But if they do need to, well, hey.

Our motto is “here for you wherever you are” for a reason.

You realize that came off as pretty menacing, right?

Ahah. Yeah.

I know.

...Okay.

Anyway, I ask him what’s going on again, and all he says is “You’re being tailed by something that’s pretty nasty, and also should know better than to be tailing you. I’m here to help you out of this sticky situation.”  


“I’ll explain when we’re on the road. Better drive before that lady comes over here.”

I don’t trust easy - Alice, you know this by now, of course - and I look him straight in the sunglasses to ask him one thing.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

He grins - his teeth are clean white - and pulls down his sunglasses to make direct eye contact with me. His eyes are gray, cold and sharp, like - well, any type of weapon you want to name, I guess, but they look right through me… and at my shirt. My Bay & Creek company shirt. The one I only wore because I didn’t have anything else clean at the moment.

“I’m mostly human. That thing in the green van is not. You and I are part of allied groups, so I need to get you the hell out of dodge.”

“Let’s go.”

...Why did you do that?

Thought it’d sound cool!

The way you talk has sort of this, almost… I mean, maybe this is insulting to you, iunno, but it sounds like you’re doing slam poetry sometimes?

So I figured, cadence like that, it’d sound rad as hell if I chimed in.

In retrospect it was a mistake, honestly.

...Okay?

Oh, I still don’t know your name, by the way.

I dunno if I have a name. Comm works, I guess.

Usually I don’t need a name.

My job doesn’t involve talking to people all  _ that _ often.

D’you have a name? Seems only fair we exchange that information.

After all, I’m technically hitchhiking with you.

It’s-

…

...Why do I get the feeling that you already know it?

Shit. _Really_ hoping you wouldn’t call my bluff on that one.

Wanted to kind of foster a less eerie image than you were painting me as! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I can be intimidating when I want to be. And a lot of the time I _do_ want to be.

But I do also need you to trust me, and I didn’t wanna pull the whole “mysterious-company-employee-who-knows-everything-about-you” schtick.

That sort of thing, while admittedly a lot more fun, is also not great re: getting along with people.

Comm, are you going to explain what’s going on, or are you just going to keep talking your way around that?

You haven’t asked me since we got in the car, Keisha.

I’ve just been waiting for my cue.

Okay. What’s going on?

Glad you asked!

Lady in the green van following us isn’t a lady. Well, she _technically_  is, but she’s also been taken over by a bullshit possession alien which probably thinks it’s a good idea to possess you, too.

I got the memo that you were being tailed, which you should  _ not _ have going on as far as these guys are concerned, and now I’m here.

And at the next rest stop, you’re gonna pull over and I’m gonna hop out and kill that thing.

Next question.

That didn’t answer anything!

All you’re doing is raising more questions.

Well, I mean, we can always skip a few rest stops.

I know this is all a lot to take in as far as things go. I mean, you’ve had a good amount of time to sort of - mm, pardon the terrible pun here but I don’t know how else to say it - digest all the THISTLE stuff as best you can, but this?

WWCOMMS, much like Bay & Creek, takes some serious explaining.

Wait, you  _ know _ about what’s going on with Bay & Creek?

...I actually don’t know all that much.

Our morally ambiguous companies are working together, both trying to take down more definitively evil companies, but we don’t really share data.

So I can tell you a lot more about WWCOMMS and PearsonCorp than I can about Bay & Creek or THISTLE.

Make sense?

You’re really good at answering questions while simultaneously creating more of them.

Thanks!

Okay. So, is this a thing that WWCOMMS pays you to do?

Do you make a living by going around and hitchhiking with people to protect them from… whatever? Is this your day job?

Or is this some sort of weird recreational activity for you?

Pfffeh! You think this is a vacation I’m taking?

WWCOMMS hires me for this express purpose. I’m the Head of Janitorial Staff, and my job is twofold - coordinate the actions of the other Janitors, and occasionally go out myself to handle particularly nasty situations.

And to answer the question you’re about to ask, PearsonCorp are the guys who hire - and also  _ are _ \- the bullshit possession aliens. Or, if you wanna be less foul-mouthed about them, the Greens.

Janitors…?

...Oh.

WWCOMMS pays you to kill people. Kill them and shrug it off as a “mess.”

Nope.

Greens aren’t people. Don’t let ‘em trick you into thinking that.

They’re nasty things from outer space that physically take over human bodies and pilot them around like unwilling mechas.

Intelligent, hive-minded parasites with a knack for reality-warping, a talent for hypnosis, and a thirst for world domination.

But they’re not people.

…

...Look. Those - er, I’m not sure what you call ‘em - those guys who work for THISTLE. Would you call them people?

I don’t really think of the Thistlemen as people, but-

-The Greens are the same kind of thing as them. They’re just better at hiding it.

That Green in the van back there? If you knocked those glasses off its host’s face, you’d be staring right into a pair of vacant eyes.

Neon green and solid through. Nothing human, nothing “people” about that.

These things’d love you to call them people. Makes them seem more sympathetic, so that - in combination with their whole hypnosis deal - they can spread easier.

They’re  _ not _ people. We clear?

...Sure.

Good.

* * *

 

Comm’s asleep now.

“I’ll need rest,” he told me. “Been awhile since I did the whole sleeping thing, and I’d rather be well-rested when I fight that Green. I won’t sleep long, don’t worry on that count.”

He’s a strange person, and I’m not sure what to make of him. I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone like him before, Alice, but I don’t think I’d want to.

...No, I’m _certain_ I wouldn’t want to.

I’m not… upset that he’s going to kill this “Green” for me. From his descriptions, they _do_ really seem to be nasty as all hell.

But something’s bothering me.

Alice, he never  _ denied _ that he kills people when I told him that. Didn’t even start to argue. Heck, as far as I can tell he didn’t have a reaction at all - I mean, he’d put his sunglasses on again, maybe he blinked or something, but there was no other change in his facial expression.

And I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I don’t like the way he sort of talked in circles around me. Felt like he was raising questions I’d  _ have _ to ask so I didn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer.

“What’s going on?” I ask - and he immediately tells me, but in a way that makes it totally seem like he’s the good guy, with no moral ambiguity.

“Does WWCOMMS pay you to do this?” I ask, and Comm tells me he’s a janitor. Won’t tell me the real thing, lets me put it together.

And most damningly of all, that one statement.

“WWCOMMS pays you to kill people,” I say. And he doesn’t deny it.

Doesn’t go “oh no, no, only monsters, never people.”

Just explains that the thing in the car behind us isn’t a person.

And that’s great and all, it really is. It’s nice to know that there are other people out there fighting the things that need to be fought so that good people can be safe.

But the way he answered it leaves a lot unsaid, leaves a gaping hole. He told me he  _ has _ killed people, just by not saying it and not denying it.

That subtle change of subject, the one I might not have noticed had it not been for the fact that nowadays I’m constantly picking up on that stuff as I try to survive - it spoke volumes.

So, here I am. I’m driving on a highway late at night, with an inhuman monster tailing me and a murderer riding shotgun. And for some reason I’m mostly okay with this. Mostly.

_ Jesus, _ Alice, why does this keep happening to me?

* * *

 

Hey.

Hey. You’re awake.

You really didn’t sleep long, huh?

Depends. How long was I out?

Two and a half hours, I think?

...Fuck. I overslept, then.

Really it should only take me an hour to recharge.

Wish I had that power. Would come in handy.

Haha. You really don’t.

It’s not something I can turn off.

You never really miss eight full hours of sleep until you’re not getting those hours, yanno?

Mm.

…

...Hitman was the word you were looking for.

What?

Hitman. I’m not a murderer. I’m a hitman.

Murderers pay _for_ their crimes. Hitmen are  _ paid _ _for_ them.

Ergo, I’m a hitman.

I do still like the term “janitor” more, honestly. Just sounds nicer.

...Were you listening to me last night?

Yeah, kinda.

Wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I swear.

Sure you weren’t.

I’m a light sleeper, cut me some slack here!

Anyway. That van still behind us?

Well, let me-

-Nah, I’ll check. It’s fine.

...Oop, yep, there it is.

Either it hasn’t caught wind of the fact that you have a hitchhiker, or it doesn’t care. That’s nice.

Mind if I keep my head poked out for a bit longer?

Knock yourself out.

Mm-hm. Think I’d rather avoid that, actually.

...

...Well, I think I should be able to do my stuff next stop.

Really?

Would’ve thought a hitman would have some weapons on him.

Don’t worry too much.

I’ll have them when I need them to be there. It’s how this all works.

I feel like I should question that.

Are you going to?

Depends on if you’ll give me a straight answer when I ask about it.

It’s just a bit of a… trick of the trade, let’s say. Don’t sweat it.

Though I’m sure now you’ll be wondering about it when I inevitably do produce that weaponry.

Damnit.

Damnit?

It’s been years - literally years - since I’ve had to be subtle, Keisha. Cut me some slack.

A lot of what you’re interpreting as a “sinister persona” is me being completely unable to not come across that way.

And it’d be one thing if I was talking to a co-worker, you know? They’re used to me acting like this. Not a second thought given.

So sometimes I forget that allies outside the company are different.

Comm, why are you telling me this?

Iunno.

Because you seemed like you’d listen, I guess.

A lot of people are bad at listening. Things go over their heads.

You, though, you’ve been on the road so long that your senses are sharp. I can’t even  _ not _ say something without you picking up on that!

And that’s a good thing, by the way.

It is?

Funny. I would’ve thought that you’d rather avoid prying eyes like mine.

Your prying eyes are the kind I’d try to hire, Keisha.

I’d give you my business card right now, but you’ve got a nice gig with Bay & Creek and I don’t wanna ruin that.

…

...We’re here.

...So we are.

Thanks for the ride. I’d say “see you around,” but I probably won’t.

So… good luck out there.

Good luck? You’re the one who’s about to go fight a monster.

You’re doing the same thing. Luck from one professional to another.

Oh, and.

The hotline to the Head of Janitorial Services is listed right on the WWCOMMS website. Nobody ever calls it, ‘cause who would call a janitor’s office, right?

But you ever do decide that you want to see me - or my employees - around again, just call that number and someone will pick up.

Any hours I should avoid calling?

The motto’s “here for you wherever you are,” not “here for you if the call center happens to be open.”

...Point taken.

Cool.

...Ok, the Green’s gettin’ out of the van. Gotta do some heavy-duty cleaning now.

Bye.

* * *

 

Okay, so I’m going to have to sleep soon after I broadcast this. It’s not really an issue anymore, though, because the green van isn’t following me anymore. Now it’s just empty road.

It’s still the middle of the night. If I look at the horizon, I see stars arching over the road. It’s just me and the hum of my truck now. Peaceful and quiet.

Also, I _cannot stop thinking_ about how much of an _asshole_ Comm was!

God, okay Alice, I know, I have to see the best in people. Or maybe it was someone else who told me that.

But for all it’s worth, I just can’t see him as a good person, you know? It’s tough to even really see him as a person at  _ all _ , in retrospect.

Though... I guess he wouldn’t really care, honestly.

...

...I should probably explain what happened after he got out of the truck.

We pulled into the gas station. Small, dingy, flickering lights. Looked like exactly the place where a murder - ahem, a “heavy-duty cleaning” - would take place.

Nobody else was there. Just my truck, and then a bit later the green van.

The lady got out of her van, took off her sunglasses and folded them up, and I saw neon green for a second. The kind you’d see in a sign outside a window, bright and glowing like they were advertising something. I didn’t look at her long enough, but I knew it was coming from her eyes.

Comm hopped out of the truck silently - the door opened and shut so softly, I barely even noticed it - and I saw him holding a rusty iron pipe behind his back.

Worth noting that I didn’t have any piping in the truck - not even in the cargo - and that he  _ definitely _ hadn’t been carrying the thing with him when he got into the passenger seat just a few hours ago.

...Then again, why am I surprised?

So Comm hops out. Goes to meet this lady, motions for me to drive away. And as I pull out of the parking lot and look to see him one last time, I see…

...I see them. Plain as day.

The entire time Comm was in the truck cabin, I’d seen odd things around his head. Not when I looked directly at him, only out of the corner of my eyes or if I glanced at his reflection in the rear-view mirrors briefly.

I told myself it was a trick of the light, Alice. My tired eyes playing games with me, making this guy look weirder than he already was.

But when I looked at… at the Janitor for what I hope is the last time…. I knew it wasn’t a trick.

Antlers.

Not extremely big ones, but large enough that some braggart “big game” hunter would put them up on his wall and show them off. But they were there - branching shadows, not really connected to his head but playing around it like some sort of twisted halo.

Comm grinned at me again, gave me an informal salute. Started whistling as he walked towards the woman.

And then I drove away, and here we are.

From what I know of the area, there’s a motel coming up shortly. I’ll check in there, try and get some rest in.

Won’t be one of those miracle two-hour Janitor naps, but it probably won’t be much longer than that. I’ve still got cargo to deliver, after all.

...So that’s that. Tomorrow I wake up, and it’s like nothing happened.

The only thing that changed is that I now know of another world-sweeping conflict, but I’ll never be involved in it anyway if Comm was telling the truth.

Oh, and I guess there’s a 24/7 hotline I know how to get to now. A number that quite frankly I’ve decided that I never,  _ ever _ want to call.

It feels anticlimactic somehow. Like there could have been a better end to all this.

But hey, what do I know? I’ll just watch the news, listen for the gaps in what the broadcasters are saying. Look for that logo, now that I know what it means, but not think about it further.

I guess I’ll talk to you soon, Alice.

**Author's Note:**

> right well that's all i have for now. probably not gonna end up writing more of this specifically because keisha is... very difficult to write. you might see more comm though, i like comm
> 
> next story is absolutely not going to be any of these because i have a flux buddies fic i need to put on the internet. it's more self-indulgent stuff don't worry
> 
> reviews - or maybe they're called comments or something, i'm honestly used to ffn and not ao3 - are appreciated especially if you have criticism on the writing style or thoughts on the story in general. literally just type AAAAAAAAAAAAAA and i'll prolly respond honestly
> 
> i don't know how to do notes can you guys tell that yet


End file.
